


I Will Never Leave You

by GratiaAeternum



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, I cried writing this, M/M, Malec, No Character Death, Wing AU, emotional as hell, happy ending in a sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GratiaAeternum/pseuds/GratiaAeternum
Summary: Alec felt the shock before the cuffs. It washed over him and burned worse than any demon ichor ever could.Give up his wings?





	

**Author's Note:**

> grab your tissues, people.

The lamp above him flickered, the bulb struggling to last another night. But it wouldn’t last, and as Alec watched, it slowly dulled, sputtering for a moment before leaving an even colder darkness in its absence. And soon that would be him, Alec thought. He would flicker out like a sputtering bulb, and be forgotten in an instant. 

Because the life of a shadowhunter was cruel and calculated, leaving no room for seemingly useless factors such as choice and reason. He was only a soldier, expected to follow the rules and live a life as fake as the laws the shadowhunters stood for. There was no compassion, no room for being your own person; not when there was a war to fight, when there were “monsters” to slay and people to repress. 

No, reason didn’t matter or exist in the shadowhunter world. Alec had known this, yes, but he had never given himself room to address the seemingly miniscule problem. He’d never had a reason to, not until that morning at least. 

_“He isn’t like that and you know it!”_

_Alec’s hand curled into fists as he mentally checked himself. Fighting wasn’t the answer. But he only had his words and he knew it was hopeless when the Inquisitor stared back at him unwaveringly. Her lips twisted in disdain as she looked down on Alec from the podium._

_“The warlock is a threat to the Clave and therefore a threat to the world. He cannot be allowed to roam free as these people, these mundanes and now shadowhunters, are being used for warlock breeding! There is concrete evidence that he is working with Iris and we will not ignore the facts. And I will ask you, just this once, to stand down, Mr. Lightwood. You are out of line, and if you are not going to help us persecute and bring in this creature then I suggest you retire for the night,” Imogen Herondale demanded._

_Behind him, Maryse hissed, “listen to her, Alexander.” But how could he listen when what they were doing was so terrible and unlawful?_

_“No, I will not stop! He is not responsible for any of this and you know it! And I suggest that you stop speaking of him as if he’s just another mindless demon before I make sure you never even have a chance to find him! Take my runes, take my stele and my title, but I will not let you hurt him!”_

_Murmur immediately filled the room, highly respected members of the clave chattering in outrage at Alec’s threat. Words like “insolent boy” and “warlock’s lover” were passed around. Imogen’s face was red in outrage as she demanded everyone to quiet down. She settled a deadly glare on Alec, assessing him for a moment. And then a small, calculating smile spread across her pale lips. It was ghastly and caused a shiver to run down Alec’s shoulders and through the wings nestled against the curve of his spine._

_“How long have you had your wings, Mr. Lightwood?”_

_Alec furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What did she mean, how long? They were as much a part of him as his lungs, or his hands. But still he answered._

_“I’ve had them all my life, Madam Inquisitor.”_

_The smile twisted then, something darker passing over her features, and dread immediately filled Alec. “Well, then, Mr. Lightwood, I suppose that if you are able to give up your title, your runes, and your stele for this warlock . . . then you would also be willing to give your wings in return for his wellbeing and safety.”_

_Alec froze and the room fell silent. It took a few moments before a reply, but it wasn’t from Alec._

_“Inquisitor, you can’t be serious. Our wings are a part of us! We are nothing without them,” Maryse said, concerned. But even his mother defending him didn’t stop Alec from making his final decision._

_“Yes, I’m willing. I . . . I will do anything for Magnus Bane.”_

_There was a gasp from somewhere, that sounded strangely like Isabelle. But what was she doing here? Only board members were allowed here when there was a meeting. And yet here was Alec, who had just barged in and let his opinion be known._

_Imogen stared at him, disgust but also a bit of respect in her eyes._

_“Then I suppose that is just what will happen. Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you are hereby a traitor to the Clave, to your own people. And you will be stripped of your Marks, your title, your stele, and . . . your wings will be stripped from your body and you will forever be cast from the Shadowworld.” She looked out to the crowd. “And to whoever tries to make contact with him will also be deemed a traitor and will have equal punishment. This meeting is dismissed. Guards, take him away.”_

_The ring of the gavel bit deeper than any wound._

_Alec felt the shock before the cuffs. It washed over him and burned worse than any demon ichor ever could._

_Give up his wings?_

Alec stared at the bars of the cell. They must have been black at some point, but were now rusted and caked with years of dust and filth. But still standing.  
Reaching out, Alec grasped onto one of the bars and looked back up at the dead bulb. He thought about how fast the light had died out. How the golden hue that once brought a sense of warmth to the small cell was forever lost. About how he would probably never see light like that again. Alec knew he wouldn’t survive this. 

In the best case scenario, he would bleed out quickly, and in the worst it would be slow and excruciating. And even if he survived being stripped of his wings and deruned, where was he supposed to go when even his own family couldn’t see him?

Then he thought of Magnus. Of the beautiful man who was so selfless and caring but also the strongest person Alec had ever met. He would gladly take Alec in. But would he even think the same of Alec once he is a mundane? Would he think him weak and helpless? Broken? 

Alec reached back to feel the downy feathers at the base of his wings. The flesh under his hands quivered as if it knew it would be gone soon. As if his wings knew they would be parted soon. And he let the tears fall as the wings wrapped around him, heavy and supportive in their last moments together. He thought about when he first learned to fly, the thrill of knowing that no matter how hard it became, he could always escape, even for only a little while. 

He thought about the first time Magnus saw them.

Alec had been wounded pretty badly in a demon attack and had of course gone to Magnus’ to let his boyfriend heal him. And when he had let his wings unfurl from under his shirt, he remembered the gasp Magnus had given and how he had looked at Alec in wonder as he had asked to touch them. And they had laid down that night with Magnus murmuring sweet nothings in his ear as he had stroked Alec’s wings, the white feathers contrasting beautifully with Magnus’ hands. 

But that would never happen again. Soon Alec would be rendered to nothing, and Magnus wouldn’t want him anymore. And even though Alec was devastated, he would never take back those words. Because Magnus was worth more than his own life. 

Their love was worth more than his wings could ever give. 

When the doors finally opened, steps ringing down the stairs like bullet shots, Alec stifled his sobs and swiped viscously at his eyes. He stood as two shadowhunters and the Inquisitor stopped in front of his cell, determined not to look weak even in his last moments. 

Imogen looked tired. Her eyes had bags and her cheeks were hallowed in the luminance of the witchlight held between thin fingers. But her features were set, and Alec knew there was no going back now. 

“It’s time, Alexander,” was all she said. The doors of the cell were opened and the two other shadowhunters came through. One held a seraph blade, but unlike one Alec had ever seen before. It was curved and serrated and immediately Alec knew what its lone use was. The other shadowhunter was not a shadowhunter at all, Alec saw, as the figure moved closer into the glow of the witchlight. It was a Silent Brother, and he was holding a stele. 

As the two came closer, it took all of Alec’s willpower not to step away. But he did waver when the Inquisitor came forward to stand in front of him.

“We will be taking your wings first, and then your runes,” she said. “Now kneel and remove your shirt.”

And Alec kneeled, knees digging into the ground as he was prompted to strip himself of his shirt and bend over to display himself properly. Harsh hands grabbed his wings, the hollow bones jerking in response to the rough treatment. And as they were spread out, the tears came back. Alec watched them drip and counted the beats of his heart in the silence that came before the blade was placed against the base of one wing. 

The pain that came next was indescribable. Alec distantly heard screams and realized they were his own as they mixed with the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones. Hot streams of what couldn’t be anything other than blood flowed down his back and across his ribs. The blood blended with the tears under him, ghastly in the witchlight as it puddled. 

He wanted it to stop. It didn’t stop. It kept going and he screamed until his voice was hoarse and all he heard was the repeated sawing. There was a thump as something heavy met the ground.

And just as he was beginning to black out it went silent. His harsh breathing and strangled sobs filled the room. Someone shuffled closer, and suddenly Alec couldn’t feel himself. Or he could feel too much. 

He didn’t even know anymore. 

If he thought having his wings literally cut from his body hurt, then having his Marks removed was like dying, only repeatedly. He didn’t even know if he was screaming. The only thing he felt was his heart, frantically beating against his chest—threatening to jump straight out of him. 

He didn’t know when it stopped, he didn’t even know how exactly it happened. In the next moment, he was being thrown against something cold and wet and everything was dark. But his eyes were wide open. 

The institute was looming above him. No, not the institute, but an old, worn-down church with broken and boarded windows. The only source of light was the moon that was barely peeking above a mass of dark clouds. 

Blood was caking in the bend of his arms and across his torso, sweat drenched his hair and streamed into his eyes. Or maybe it was also his blood. He couldn’t tell the difference as his skin felt like it was on fire. Then it went away for a moment, before coming back, just as painful as before. Like he had been set ablaze and just as the last wisp was dispersing, someone had tossed gasoline on him and now he was burning again. And again. And again. 

Maybe he was screaming. Or crying. Or even laughing. He didn’t know. 

But he did know that no one ever came for him.

Hours later, or possibly days, Alec began to move. His fingers trembled and his arms felt like they were being weighed down with cinder blocks as he struggled to sit up. His throat was raw from screaming and he had to blink repeatedly to be able to see only a few feet in front of him. The thought that he was already so helpless without his runes caused a harsh laugh to bubble up, his throat protesting and his back screaming as he continued until he the air seemed to leave his lungs and he was forced to stop.

The night loomed before him, streets empty and silent. 

It took him four tries to shakily get to his feet with the help of a semi-broken railing. Only for him to fall back down almost immediately. His body wasn’t used to the immense absence of his wings, and neither was his mind. He choked back the tears and determinedly grabbed ahold of the rail and again lifted himself up. And he did this two more times before he was able to stagger away from the only place he had ever called home. 

His footsteps were heavy and laden with fatigue as he slowly made his way to the only person he had left in this unforgiving world. 

The loft looked darker than it ever had before. And again, Alec was reminded of what he no longer had. Without his runes, he felt both lighter and heavier than ever before. The streets once bustling with downworlders was empty, and Alec stumbled up the stairs to a door that was both familiar and new. And shakily, Alec drew up a hand to knock against the wood lightly. 

He waited only a moment before the door opened. 

____________

“I told you, I only will take clients by appoint—” Magnus’ next words were cut off as he took in Alec, who was leaning against his doorframe, covered in blood and filthy. But also breathing as he looked at Magnus through the hair matted and stuck to his forehead. “Oh, Lilith. What happened to you, Alexander?”

Alec didn’t say anything. He just stumbled forward and fell into Magnus, who immediately wrapped his arms around him, jumping when Alec let out a cry as Magnus’ hands came in contact with the haggard stubs. The only reminder of the wings he used to have. 

Magnus held back the angry and distraught tears as he carefully gathered Alec close. Alec curled into him automatically and rested his head against Magnus’ shoulder. Magnus looked down at the drying blood. There was so much that it was covering Alec’s back and neck. Magnus lifted a hand to stroke along Alec’s deflect rune, something that always seemed to calm him—

But the rune wasn’t there. None of them were there. The inky black tendrils gone, as if they had never been there in the first place. Alec must have felt Magnus freeze, because a gasp was pushed against Magnus’ collar as Alec began to shake against him. He was muttering something as his body was wracked with the force of his sobs. 

It took Magnus a moment to make out the words, and when he did he felt his blood run cold. 

“Pl—please don’t leave me, Magnus. Please don’t. You’re—you’re all I have left.” Alec sobbed, hands reaching up to grab at Magnus’ shirt, knuckles white. _“You’re all I have, Magnus.”_

Holding back his own tears, Magnus took a deep breath and reached up a hand to cup Alec’s face. Gently, he pulled back and looked into Alec’s tear-stained, swollen face. There was snot and dirt and blood smeared across his mouth and cheeks, and Magnus knew there must have been some on his shirt too, but he didn’t care. All he saw was Alec, his beautiful Alec, looking at him with the most hopeful and broken expression. 

Leaning up, Magnus pressed a soft kiss against Alec’s lips, not caring about any of the mess. Alec’s lips trembled under his, and Magnus felt his heart break just a bit more. But he didn’t falter as he looked into those glistening, gorgeous eyes, and said, “I will never leave you, my dear Alexander. Never.”

Alec’s sob was swallowed down as he connected their lips and held Magnus close, body shaking with relief. 

He may have lost his wings, his runes, and even his family. But he had Magnus.

And that was all that mattered.


End file.
